Scarred Forever

Patrick rode in the back seat of the taxi looking out of the window as they made their way across the bridge and into the city. It felt good to get away. As much as he loved his parents, the last two months of living with them was more than he could take. His mother constantly cried, and his father couldn't look him in the face. Patrick found himself waking up to nightmares every night. Add in the overwhelming feeling of despair and pent-up anger, and it made for a bad home life for everyone. In fact, it didn't really feel like home anymore.

********

Chuck Morgan looked over at his son and smiled, getting one in return.

"It'll be the best decision you'll ever make," he said. "Those were the best eight years of my life. Taught me how to be a man, just like it will teach you."

"Just be careful," added Maryann quickly. "I want you back in one piece."

"Don't worry," said Chuck as he slapped Patrick on the back, "our boy will show those bastards why you don't mess with the good 'ole U.S. of A! Won't ya boy?"

Patrick smiled and turned to his mother. "I'll be fine Ma. Can I have some more eggs please?"

Maryann took Patrick's plate and headed to the stove. After she had scooped another pile of eggs, she stood at the stove with her back toward her family.

"Ma?" said Patrick.

"I just wish you'd at least think about that football scholarship..."

Patrick got up and walked to his mother, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I've thought about it already. It doesn't matter if I turn it down. The Army is giving me the GI Bill so that I can go to school for free if I want."

His mother turned and handed him the plate of eggs. "I just don't understand why you are so set on this," she said in a shaky voice as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks.

"This is a great opportunity for me. I'll get to see the world. I'm going to fight for my country. And for people who can't fight for themselves."

"Maryann, he's got plenty of time to go to school. Who knows, he could make a career out of this! He could retire by the time he's forty! Could you imagine that, Patrick? A full pension at forty? Hell, if your old man was as smart as you are, I would've done it! Then when you retire, you can go to school if you want. But why do that when Uncle Sam's gonna take care of you?"

********

A vibrating sensation in his jeans pocket brought Patrick back to reality. He reached inside of his pocket and grabbed his cell phone. The caller ID showed the name "Kyle". He flipped the phone open and put it to his ear.

"Hello."

"Patrick! What's up, bud? Where are ya?"

"Just coming off of the bridge. I should be there soon."

"Cool," said Kyle, barely able to contain the excitement in his voice. "Can't wait to see ya."

"Thanks for letting me crash at your place for awhile."

"Hey man, we go way back, remember? It'll be just like old times!"

"Yeah, something like that," said Patrick. 'Just like old times' he thought. Nothing will ever be like old times. "I'll see you in a bit," he said, and then flipped his phone closed.

********



The taxi pulled up in front of 1426 Cardinal Terrace. The house was a small Cape Cod that could use a new coat of paint and the lawn cut. But, none of that really mattered to Patrick. All that mattered was that he was here.

Kyle ran out of the house holding a beer in each hand and stopped just short of the taxi, with a huge ear to ear grin on his face. Patrick had known Kyle his entire life. They were best friends in high school. They did everything together. They played football together, went out together, drank together. It was when high school ended that they went separate ways. Patrick joined the Army and went away to boot camp, while Kyle spent his last summer at home before leaving to attend Gannon University on a football scholarship.

Patrick reached to open the door with his right hand. Catching himself, he stopped and reached across his body with his left hand, grabbing the handle and opening the door. He swung his right leg clumsily out of the door, and then swung his left leg out. He scooted closer to the doorway and planted both feet on the ground. He reached out with his left hand and grabbed the top of the car door, and leaning forward, pulled himself up. It took a few seconds to balance himself.

"It's good to see you," said Kyle as he reached out to give Patrick a friendly hug. "Want a beer?"

"Sure, let me just pay this guy first," Patrick was saying as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

"No, no, no, I'll get it! Put your money away," Kyle was saying. He took both beers in one hand and then went to cover his hand over Patrick's wallet. He did it a little too forcefully, most likely because he was drunk, and not only managed to knock Patrick off balance, but Patrick, having to let go of his wallet to steady himself, dropped his wallet on the ground.

"Dude, I'm sorry! You okay? Here, let me get that."

"No!" He said louder than he meant to. Kyle froze and the smile disappeared from his face. However, Patrick couldn't stand it when people tried to do things for him. It made him feel as though they thought he was handicapped. He did indeed have a prosthetic arm and leg, but he made it a point to try and do everything himself.

"I'm sorry Kyle. I can get this though."

Patrick bent slowly forward at the waist and reached his mechanical extremity toward the wallet, while hanging onto the door with his "good" arm for balance. As his three prong-like "fingers" surrounded the wallet, he grasped it and slowly started to stand back up. The prongs didn't grab and enclose like real fingers, but they did have a small mechanical range of motion that was good enough to perform small tasks. This prosthetic, along with the one that replaced his right leg, was top of the line technology. However, they were still not perfect. Mentally, there is no fix for a missing limb.

Kyle smiled again, took out his money, and paid the driver. Then he drained his beer, threw the bottle on the lawn, gave the other to Patrick and took the Army duffle bag and backpack out of the trunk.

"Alright, come on in."

********

Despite the outer appearance, the inside of the house was nice. Beer bottles everywhere, but nice. Kyle had shown him to the guest bedroom. It was more than Kyle expected. He thought that he'd be staying on the couch.

"I thought you had a roommate," said Patrick.

"He moved out last month. Too much of a bookworm for me, and I was too much of a party man."

"You'd better watch that. You can't mess up your scholarship."

"Scholarship? Man, that's done and gone."

"What?"

"Yeah, I couldn't keep up with the grades. Too damn strict. Remember when we used to go and get drunk when we were in high school? That shit was a breeze. Just kind of float through the classes. We were gods, man! Then I came here. There were parties everywhere! Not like high school. Frat parties and shit! And the girls! Wow! Man, I'm telling you, we'll go out tonight and I'll show ya!"

"So you're not in school anymore?"

"Hell no! But I sure as hell wasn't gonna leave party world for the real world back home!"

"Do you work?"

"I'm a bartender. I actually have to go in tonight." He looked at his watch. "Oh shit, I have to be there now!"

"You're drunk right now."

"I'm a better bartender when I'm drunk."

Kyle flashed that ear to ear grin again and opened another beer.

"You ready to go?"

Patrick nodded and they left.

********

The bar was called The Bullpen. It was a small place that drew a big crowd and tonight was no exception. The place was packed. Patrick was sitting at the end of the bar on a stool. Kyle knew that it would be busy, so he had arranged for some friends to come down and hang out with Patrick while he worked. Patrick was introduced to Christie, Danielle, and Stephanie. They were all good looking, young students.

Patrick found it difficult to talk with them. Not only were they civilians, they were young, and annoying. They were most likely close to his age, but he didn't consider himself young anymore. He felt old. Too old. And he felt wierd. He had felt this way all night, but this was the first time that he had actually noticed it. He was sweating, but it wasn't the kind of sweating that happens when you are hot. It was worse. His thoughts were cloudy too. He wasn't drunk. He knew that he had only had a few beers. Maybe it was the medication. The Army Psychiatrist said that he was suffering from depression. She probably said some other things too, but Patrick had tuned her out.

He turned to Christie and said, "I'm gonna go to the bathroom." She nodded her head and went back to talking with the other girls and the guys that had flocked over to them.

Patrick got up and felt very dizzy and nauseous. He tried to blink it from his eyes, but the room started to spin instead. He felt himself rocking back and forth. He reached out instinctively with his right prosthetic to grab something to steady himself. What he grabbed was the navel area of a girl standing near him. He saw her push his arm away and yell something at him. What it was, he couldn't understand. Stephanie had her back turned toward him. As he fell into her, she spilled her drink all over one of the guys that was talking to her. Patrick fell to the floor. He started to curl himself into a ball. It felt as though the whole world was caving in around him. He started to scream.

********

He remembered the ringing in his ears first. Then he remembered opening his eyes and feeling the pain at the same time. The smell of smoke and a smell that he couldn't place, but that made him sick to his stomach. The ringing cleared and he heard himself screaming. He felt people all around him. Some were grabbing him, others were pushing down on him. He recognized some of the people, and he knew the uniform. They were his brothers, and this feeling took away some of the pain.

He felt himself being picked up. He remembered looking at all of the blood. There was blood everywhere. 'Where's my rifle' he thought. 'Why don't I have my rifle?'
That's when he looked at his arm. At least, that's where his arm should have been. All he saw now was a mass of bloody meat and bone and burned flesh starting just above where his elbow used to be. That's when he started to panic. He was screaming again. He tried to kick his legs to get free, but something felt different. 'Why can I only move one leg?'

He was put into the back of a vehicle. Two men got in with him, one putting pressure on his bloody stump of his arm and the other doing something near his legs. Something else was dropped next to him with a loud thump. He looked to see what it was. There were two men who had climbed in with it too. He thought he heard them say something about an IED. One of them was obstructing his view. The man shifted slightly, and then Patrick was able to see a face staring at him. One eye was missing, but the other was open and staring straight at him. But there was no life in that eye. Patrick's eyes drifted toward the man's vest and the nametag. Carter. 'Carter?' he thought. He knew a Carter. 'What's happening?' Patrick started to get cold. He was shaking. He screamed "Mamma!!" before he vomited and slipped into unconsciousness.

********

"Patrick?"

Patrick opened his eyes. He was lying on some sort of bed and there was a siren. He panicked briefly and then saw Kyle.

"What happened?"

"I don't know man. You kind of flaked out. Scared the girls real bad. You were screaming and...and...man I just don't know."

"Are you taking me to the hospital?"

"Yes," said the paramedic. "We are taking you in to be evaluated. Is there anywhere specific that you would like to go? The V.A.?"

"Is there a V.A. here?"

"Yes."

"Please take me there. I need help. I can't take this anymore."

Tears started to come then. He hadn't cried in a very long time. It was like turning on a faucet.

"Do you want me to call your Mom and Dad," asked Kyle as they pulled up to the V.A. Hospital.

"No. I just want to be left alone. Just bring my stuff here. I'm sorry Kyle, just bring my stuff here."

"Patrick, hey come on, you can still stay at..."

"You don't understand Kyle! I am not Patrick anymore! I pretend to be to make everyone around me happy! But it never lasts! This is what I am! Half man, half machine, crazy fucking madman!"

The ambulance crew wheeled Patrick into the hospital, leaving Kyle outside, hurt and speechless. He lost his best friend that day. Patrick hadn't died, but he was scarred forever.